


Unwanted Attentions

by alltoseek



Series: Spanking John [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi, Pegging, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John attracts the attention of Mycroft and his personal assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwanted Attentions

Sherlock's phone chimed.

“John,” he said, not looking up from his microscope, “go to Mycroft's office and find out what he wants.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sherlock's voice rose in tone, “'Why me?'” he whinged in a fair imitation of John. “'He's your bother.' 

“I don't have time,” spoken in his usual baritone.

“'You could just call him – or answer your phone,'” whinging again.

“John. You like me. He likes you. I don't like him. Go.

“There, script complete. Satisfied? Now _go_.” This last said with an imperious shooing wave of his hand.

John found himself headed down the stairs, hand running through his hair. Damn the man. He'd go all right. He'd go to the cinema, or to the park. Parks were nice. He used to go to parks.

Outside the building waited a familiar black car. Inside was a familiar lovely woman.

Damn both of them.

Determined to get something out of this, John broke the silence as they traveled. “Hello. What's your name again?”

“Umm...Anthea?”

“But that's not really your name.”

“Umm... No.”

“If we're going to keep meeting like this, you really should tell me your name.”

“I did. Anthea.”

John gave up.

Mycroft stood as John entered the office.

“Ah, John, how good of my brother to send you.”

John, prepared with an insincere smile and an even less sincere greeting, deflated a little at this. “Uh, yeah, right. Hello, Mycroft.”

Mycroft's expression changed from a polite smirk to a deep concern. “I'm afraid I have rather a serious ah... allegation to discuss with you.”

“Yes?” John looked up expectantly. He had no idea what Mycroft was talking about.

“My personal assistant informs me that you are pressing unwelcome and uncomfortable advances on her; that she has repeatedly informed you firmly that your attentions are unwanted, and yet you persist in this unbecoming behavior.”

John's jaw dropped during this speech until he gaped like a carp. “I – never – I didn't – wouldn't – all I did was ask her name!”

“John. I'm very sorry to do this, but as I expect this association to continue, it is imperative that you learn appropriate behavior around my colleagues.”

“My behavior is perfectly appropriate! I haven't done anything wrong!”

“Drop your trousers, if you please.”

_Drop his_ – No. No, this was not happening. This. No. John reached for the door. It was locked. He turned around. Mycroft had retrieved a cane from behind his desk.

“Unlock this door. I am – this is not happening. You are not doing this. Unlock – ” as John was speaking, Mycroft walked around him to get between John and the door. He gradually stepped closer to John, backing him up against the desk until he loomed over the shorter man. 

Mycroft spoke softly into John's ear. “If you are uncomfortable lowering your trousers, I can perform that task for you. Turn around, and bend over the desk.”

John swallowed and closed his eyes. He made one last attempt. “I – I have been trained in hand to hand combat. I don't want to hurt you – “

Mycroft interrupted, “You are most considerate.” He continued speaking huskily directly in John's ear. John felt the breath hot against his neck. “However, I do, very much, want to hurt you. I suggest that you comply with my directions.”

_Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn._ John turned around. One of Mycroft's hands pressed against the back of John's neck, bending him forward. The other went to the buckle of John's belt.

“You may grasp the edge of the desk in front of you with both your hands.” John did so, and Mycroft made quick work of the belt and the flies of his trousers, lowering it and his pants together. John felt the cool air drift against his bared skin. He groaned and rested his forehead on the desk.

“There, now. This doesn't have to be so bad, now does it, hmm?” Mycroft cooed gently.

_Oh God just get this over with,_ thought John desperately. There was no mistaking his arousal, and the cheeks of his arse felt as flushed as those of his face. Then the long adroit fingers of one of Mycroft's hands lightly curled around John's cock and stroked once, smoothly. “Ahhhh!” John gasped. 

“Yes, indeed,” Mycroft murmured. The hand left him and a second later the cane came down _THWACK_ across his buttocks. John gasped in quite a different way. The cane smacked down again and again.

_ok ok ok ok_ John thought frantically. _I can do this. OK. OK._ He focussed on keeping his feet steady, braced against the blows so that his thighs did not slam into the desk.

The door opened.

_OH MY GOD_ screamed John in his head. He shut his eyes tightly and grasped the edge of the desk until his knuckles whitened. 

“Ah, my dear, so happy you decided to join us.”

_oh god no please no go away –_

“If you be so good as to sit up on the desk there, in front of John.”

_What the – ?_ John opened his eyes to see Anthea climbing up in front of him. She sat with her legs to either side of his head, resting over his arms. Her short skirt slid up to her hips. Her stockings were held up by suspenders, and she wore no knickers. Her scent instantly filled his senses.

“This is what you have been desiring, is it not, John? I believe you know what to do now.”

_Oh God Yes!_ John loosed his grip of the desk and brought his hands to caress Anthea's thighs and hips. He urged her towards him and moved forwards to lick and kiss at the neatly groomed folds of her sex.

Mycroft resumed the blows with the cane.

John's eyes flew open and his cries were lost in his mouthful of Anthea.

“I suggest you concentrate on the task before you, John. The caning will continue until my assistant is satisfied.”

John grasped Anthea's thighs and licked at the opening of her vulva. Gradually he worked his tongue deeper between the outer labia. She was moist, but not yet damp. He could smell her musk, but also her soap and perfume. He worked his tongue hard over her whole sex from below her cunt to up around her clit.

John Watson loved eating women out. He loved their smell – each unique. He loved their juices covering his mouth, chin, nose, cheeks. He loved licking. He loved working his tongue. He loved that he could get a woman off with just his tongue alone.

John Watson had a strong and talented tongue.

He used all his skills on Anthea now. He did his best to ignore the strokes Mycroft's inexorable cane gave his sore tender arse. He focussed his efforts on enjoying and pleasuring Anthea, dragging his tongue up and down, side to side, in and out, exploring, circling her clit, tongue-fucking her cunt, curling his tongue out to bring out her juices, sucking them out, moving over her clit and sucking on it.

Whilst John's mouth was busy his hands were not idle. He caressed the soft smooth curves of her thighs and hips and buttocks. He luxuriated in the contrast between her skin and her stocking and her skirt. The back of his mind – a small part he thrust away and pretended was not contributing _at all_ to the intense arousal of this experience with this amazingly hot lovely gorgeous woman – was luxuriating in the contrast between the gentle strokes his hands and tongue gave Anthea whilst he was receiving sharp painful blows that sent eruptions of sensation through his whole body. His whole being was devoted to pleasuring the woman in front of him, whilst the powerful man behind him dealt out a merciless punishment. But none of that provoked the moans and whimpers he heard issue pitifully from his throat.

Between his own moans and gasps and thwacks of the cane, John listened for the sounds of Anthea's pleasure. Gradually he realised he could hear none because she was not making any. All he heard was... was... the tapping of her fingers on her damn Blackberry. The bitch! Here he was working his arse off – literally – and she was – she was fucking _ignoring_ him! In his outrage he let his mouth gape open and the next smack of the cane sunk his teeth into her sensitive flesh. _Serves her right_ , he thought, but at the same time he heard her gasp. Not a strictly pained gasp either. He began to experiment with very light nips with his teeth and was rewarded by more gasps and moans. And fewer taps on the keyboard. 

His hands stopped their gentle caresses and gripped her arse tightly, the tips of his fingers sinking into her yielding flesh, pulling her into his mouth. He brought one hand forward to fuck her with his fingers. He sucked her clit, thrusting his tongue hard against the swollen nub. At the next blow from the cane he again bit down lightly. 

Anthea came, crying out, thighs quivering.

John's chin was flooded with her juices. He released the tender clit and lapped at her cunt. Gently he stroked her trembling thighs, nuzzling his cheek lightly in the crease between her sex and leg.

Mycroft had ceased the caning as soon as Anthea orgasmed, and now rested one hand lightly on the small of John's back. Anthea composed herself and slid back off the desk. John rested his head on his forearms and felt the ache in his stiff neck and shoulders, and the stinging hot throbbing pain spread across his buttocks. He enjoyed the wetness dripping down his chin and the musky scent that now entirely filled his inhaled breath. John tried to ignore the heavy hardness stiff between his legs, the tightness of his bollocks.

Slowly John raised himself up on his arms, when Mycroft's hand slid along his spine to the back of his neck. “One moment, my dear John,” Mycroft murmured in his ear. His other hand stroked softly along John's cock. “Would you not prefer to have this taken care of before you leave?”

“Oh, yes, please,” answered John, slumping back down.

“Excellent,” smiled Mycroft. “Let us move to the floor, shall we?” He guided John, whose knees were not at all trustworthy, down to the floor where someone had thoughtfully placed a folded blanket. He assisted John in removing his shoes and trousers, and had him remain kneeling, head again pillowed on his arms. “Such an inviting sight,” admired Mycroft, his hand sliding gently along the crack of John's buttocks. “Your delightfully pert arse, arched up and open. However,” he sighed, “We have another plan for you. Look up,” he breathed wickedly into John's ear. 

John raised his head. He watched as Anthea removed her skirt and blouse, retaining her stockings, boots, and black lace bra. She then removed from a drawer a harness and a... John swallowed hard and licked his lips. A double-sided dildo. Scarlet.

Next to him Mycroft must have removed his clothes, because John could now feel the older man's warm flesh pressed up against his own. “Delightfully wicked, isn't it?” Mycroft purred into his ear. John could only moan. He felt precome leaking from his cock. 

As Anthea inserted one end of the dildo and strapped on the harness, John felt Mycroft's hand, cool with lube, again on his arse. Mycroft inserted one finger at a time, stretching out his anus, continuing to whisper filth in John's ear. His own head was devoid of words, of coherent thought. He was aware of his hips rotating, of trying to fuck himself on Mycroft's fingers, and equally aware that Mycroft was carefully allowing no such thing, that he was avoiding stimulating John's prostate and focussed entirely on simply preparing John and opening him up.

Anthea moved behind John. “Ready, Doctor?” Mycroft asked, drawing his fingers away. In response John lowered his head back on his arms and spread his legs. Dimly, through the overwhelming thudding of his heart and pounding of his pulse, he heard Mycroft chuckle. John no longer felt like a doctor. Nor a soldier. Hardly a person at all. His arse and cock had swollen and expanded to overtake his whole body. He was made entirely of sex and sensation. At the first cool touch of Anthea's hand on his hip he shuddered.

“Shhh,” Mycroft shushed, stroking John's side. “Shhh.” John panted and gasped. Anthea grasped both hips firmly and began to slide inside.

It was indescribable. His hot swollen painful arse now swollen also from the inside. His hard cock of flesh surrounded by emptiness and the stiff unyielding silicone filling him completely. Two pairs of hands caressing and grasping his uncontrollably shaking and trembling body.

Anthea moved in a simple gentle back-and-forth rhythm of her hips. Gradually John became accustomed to the sensations and the trembling relaxed into a yearning sort of pleasure. His own cock still felt horribly neglected but he thought he might be able to bear this. 

Then Mycroft moved in front of him, bringing the tip of his prick to John's lips. John looked up to see Mycroft smiling expectantly down at him. John closed his eyes, wet his lips thoroughly, then reached out with mouth and tongue to encircle the head of Mycroft's cock. “Oh, yes,” the older man cooed. “Very nice.”

John was not as experienced with cock as with pussy, but he knew what to do. He had much earlier let go all dignity, all sense of self, and he simply put all his effort into the task in hand, or mouth. He licked and sucked and slurped and listened to Mycroft's encouraging words and sounds. The man's long elegant fingers were gentle as they caressed his head, in his hair, along his face and neck. Despite the ache in his neck and jaw, and cock and arse, John found himself feeling so grateful, so grateful...

“You should be grateful, John,” Mycroft was saying. “We're doing this all for you. Think, John, you have my entire attention right now. And that of my assistant – well, most of hers...”

John brought his focus back to where the dildo was still moving in and out in its maddeningly methodical pace. He had braced himself and the toy slid easily, so Anthea was no longer holding his hips. In fact... _tap tap tap_ She was working her damn Blackberry AGAIN! _She was fucking FUCKING him and not even paying attention!_ John would have ground his teeth together but his mouth was still currently occupied by Mycroft's cock so he contented himself with panting hot and wet around him instead, which Mycroft appeared to appreciate so he did it some more. Then he remembered that he had a strong and talented tongue and put it to good use to see just how undone he could make Mycroft. It would be lovely to see the usually oh-so-suave man utterly lose his composure, sweating, trembling, crying out... And damn how did he not know how good it felt to have a cock fill his mouth, the smooth firm flesh, so much; the familiar musky smell, just a little different. Let Anthea settle for in-and-out, in-and-out; let her miss out on the fun she could be having, damned if John wasn't going to do his best to drive Mycroft absolutely crazy...

Finally he felt it, an extra thickening, a slight tremble. He sucked harder, deeper, wanting as much as he could – but Mycroft pulled his cock out of John's hungry reaching mouth and came on his face. Semen splattered over his forehead, even a little in his hair, in his eyes, down his cheeks, his chin. Some landed in his open mouth and he tasted it on his tongue, the smell of it mixing with Anthea's scent still absorbed in his skin.

And still the dildo slid in-and-out, in-and-out. John stayed in place, stunned. He was going to go insane. Mycroft had moved back to his side, perhaps not so cool as before, but back in control of himself. He stroked his hands along John's back and side. John loved the touch, so human. He closed his eyes and moaned, wishing he could lean into it. 

“Look up,” said Mycroft once more. John did, and directly in front of him was his own face, staring back. A full length mirror was hanging on the wall. Whilst John's eyes had been full of Anthea and his mouth full of Mycroft he hadn't noticed it, but now there was nothing between him and his completely debauched image. His face red and splotched with come, his buttocks in the air above the height of his head. He could see a few of the stripes the cane had left across his arse. And above that, Anthea, her hips swaying back and forth, her beautiful face calm, her eyes downcast.

Mycroft moved to kneel slightly behind and beside her. He took the Blackberry out of her hand and tossed it aside. With one hand he cupped her chin and turned her to kiss him. John could see everything perfectly, their lips moving, their tongues touching playfully. He couldn't look away. If he tried his eyes flickered to his own humiliating pose, face flushed and dripping, eyes wild, mouth gaping and panting. He couldn't close his eyes but stared at the beautiful couple making love behind him. 

Mycroft's hands had moved to caress Anthea's rounds breasts, milk-white against the black of her bra. Gently he lifted them out and played with their rosy brown nipples. Anthea leant her head back against Mycroft's shoulder and turned her face into his shoulder. Her rhythm became erratic.

Watching them, feeling his own aching need painfully hanging ignored, John heard small noises work themselves along his throat. He was whimpering. He was lost. He was nothing. Anthea's and Mycroft's hands were all over each other, caressing and kissing. The angle of the dildo was sometimes awkward and painful now, and the harness frequently brushed up against John's sore abused buttocks. None of that compared though to the sight of them making love to each other and the feeling of being filled and fucked. 

Mycroft's hand around Anthea's back continued to pinch and roll her breast, whilst the other reached down beneath the harness to play with her clit. Anthea began shuddering at his touch, her hands dropping from his body and reflexively grasping at John's arse whilst plunging deeper and harder into him. John braced himself and pushed back in rhythm. _Oh god yes_ , he thought. _God yes, please please_. She pulled his hips against her as hard as she could, rubbing in circles, Mycroft's hand caught between them. Throbbing pain blossomed over his arse as she finally came with a long gasping cry. 

John was shuddering again too, red and flushed all over his body. But no relief. He thought he might cry soon – he was crying. Water filled his eyes and flowed over, tracking through and around the semen dried on his face. 

Mycroft guided Anthea into resuming her previous even pace, although it stuttered a bit, she still feeling the action of her end of the toy in her sensitive canal. As the inexorable fucking continued, John cried out, letting the sobs come. “I can't, I can't...”

“Shhhh,” Mycroft hushed again, “Shhhh.” Again his hand came down to stroke along John's side, but this time it worked lower down, to his belly. “I've got you, John.” His hand curled gently around John's cock and John sobbed again in relief. Just a few gentle strokes and he found his release coming so explosively some drops landed on his own chest and neck.

John dropped down onto his side in exhaustion. He closed his eyes and willed the rest of the world away.

When he came back to himself, he was covered by another blanket. Mycroft knelt beside him, freshly showered and dressed. He was wiping John's face gently with a warm wet flannel. “There,” he said gently, a slight smile. “Better now?”

John felt again that absurd rush of gratitude and was suddenly disgusted with himself. “Yes, right, that's enough,” he said, taking the flannel from Mycroft and wiping himself down vigourously. He looked around for his clothes. Anthea was not in sight and neither were any of the implements used.

Mycroft stood up. “Very well,” he smiled, amused, and moved to sit down at his desk. Immediately he found papers to occupy his attention.

John located his clothes nearby and began to dress. Carefully, finding himself more light-headed and trembly than he would have liked. Also, there was the pain in his backside to consider. When he finished Mycroft looked up and said, “My car will take you home.”

John opened his mouth to argue, reconsidered; was about the thank him instead, and reconsidered that as well. He merely nodded, then left the office. Anthea, also perfectly groomed, escorted him to the car.

They rode back to Baker Street in silence, Anthea naturally back on the Blackberry. John focussed on the optimum way of perching himself on the edge of the seat on his thighs to avoid pressure on his sores and avoid being flung about the car during the turns. Briefly he considered that Mycroft had never told him why he'd summoned him, or rather Sherlock. Or was it all a set-up? Did Sherlock know? John realised if he didn't before he'd know the instant he walked through the door. John had not been offered the use of the shower; his face was still imbued with Anthea's musky scent and dried semen still clung to his hair. As the car pulled up to the door of 221B, John turned to Anthea. “Well, good-bye,” he said. “Anthea.”

“Good-bye,” she returned, politely.

John smiled. “Until next time, then,” he added, and deliberately placed his hand on her thigh. As she looked at him in astonishment, he gave it a light squeeze, then opened the door and stepped out.


End file.
